The Whiskey Tide (48 page)

     
"What's the occasion?"

     
"My job." Arliss was ready to split with pride. She held the baby on her lap, trying to interest him in milk from a cup. "Mrs. Hinshaw sent a note — said things had been set back by that accident her nephew had. I start tomorrow, helping them get moved in and make curtains and things. Half days until they see if they can make a go of it. They're awfully nice people."

     
"She gets paid every week, too," chimed Cecilia.

     
Vic allowed it was time somebody had brains enough to see her talents. Sebastian said if the shop got any customers young enough to be worth looking at, he'd come by and walk her home.

     
"Speaking of walking home, that Coast Guard pal of yours has his arm in a sling," he told Joe. "Saw him down at Finnegan's."

     
Joe moved his fork to the side of his plate to make room for the cobbler Irene was serving. "Daryl? What happened?"

     
"Got off night duty and was walking home, minding his own business, when a couple of guys came out of a gin mill. Car roared up and somebody shot at them. He got hit too."

     
"Jesus!"

     
Vic was admiring his serving of cobbler. "This family's living high on the hog these days," he said with satisfaction.

***

     
The absence of phone calls from Felix made Aggie nervous. Maybe by beating Theo up he thought he'd hurt her enough — and he had. But wouldn't he want to lord it over her? She'd been stupid before. About Felix and about lots else. Theo was worth ten of him. If only her family could be safe, she'd mend her ways. She was awfully glad Kate had gotten the big black dog.

     
It was Friday, the night before Kate was to take odd old Mrs. Cole on her sailing excursion, that the dog's barking woke her. It brought her to a sitting position with heart thumping. Through the window she'd cracked to admit sweet spring air she heard the dog lapse into a rumbling growl, then bark again. She went to the window. After several desperate moments her eyes adjusted and she could make out King Tut standing at the edge of the yard nearest the beach stairs. And the driveway.

     
Her door eased open. Kate crept in. They met at the foot of the bed and sat on the corner as they had in childhood when thunder storms sent them scurrying to each other's rooms.

     
"Do you think someone's out there?" Aggie's voice shook.

     
"It could just be Uncle Finney's pals using our beach."

     
"Should we call the police?" Aggie hadn't thought about what they'd actually do if the dog gave warning. "Felix hasn't tried to see me. Beating Theo up probably proved whatever it was he wanted to prove... or satisfied his ego. He wouldn't really come around...." She was trying to convince herself.

     
"Katie?"

     
The soft call sent them both rushing to Woody's room.

     
"Why is King Tut barking?" he asked sleepily.

     
"He saw a-a cat," Aggie comforted. It was two in the morning. Nobody in their neighborhood owned a cat. "Go back to sleep or you'll wake Mama and Rosalie." She tucked his sheet up.

     
Kate disappeared silently into Pa's study. By the time Aggie joined her, she had put on the desk lamp. Kate's face was grim. She spent more time in the study than anyone else, and her arm disappeared in the back of a drawer with the certainty of someone who knew the precise location of what she sought.

     
"Kate! What are you doing?" Aggie gasped.

     
Her sister had brought out a pistol and was feeding it bullets.

Part III

Flying Horses

Thirty-five

     
"They came last night," said Mrs. Cole as soon as they met.

     
Kate's tension ebbed for the first time since King Tut had started barking.

     
"They didn't stay long. Your dog scared them away."

     
"Wonderful!" Kate felt dizzy with relief. Armed with Pa's pistol, she had lain awake long after King Tut grew quiet. Rum-runners on their beach worried her less than thoughts of Felix. If the dog barking meant Uncle Finney missed out on landing money, she didn't care. "You make a superb sentry, Mrs. Cole."

     
She was growing fond of the odd old woman. Mrs. Cole thought about things. Her erratic turns of conversation tickled Kate.

     
The day had put on party clothes for their outing. A light breeze begged for the courtship of sails, fluffy white clouds ruffled a blue sky, and May's distinctive perfume sweetened the air. Mrs. Cole might have been Woody's age judging by her excitement as she stepped onto the
Folly
. Joe met them wearing his captain's hat, purchased for Mrs. Cole's benefit. It made Kate smile. His eyes were dancing and she was deeply glad he had ignored her invitation for him to bring a date.

     
Tatia trudged doggedly after her
madame
. She relinquished a groaning picnic basket to Billy and from that moment on kept one hand firmly attached to either a rope or a rail.

     
They hoisted sail with Mrs. Cole laughing in delight as she held her broad brimmed, old-fashioned hat to her head and peered skyward. When they started to meet other craft she was firm in her pronouncement that the
Folly
was the most graceful among them. They sailed to the Bakers where Kate pointed out likely nesting sites and showed her how to estimate a herring gull's age by its color.

     
"Grandfather told me the clever ones will drop shellfish onto a rock to smash the shell and get at the meat inside," Mrs. Cole said shyly.

     
The old woman asked a thousand questions. She noticed small things: the patterns of wake, the silvering of water when a school of fish changed direction, the differences in blooms of seaweed. She should have been a naturalist, Kate thought, capturing the wonder she saw all around her in words or pictures. Now it was too late.

     
That realization burrowed into Kate, a warning not to let her own life slip away.

     
Joe turned the schooner up the coast toward Manchester. They anchored in a shallow cove and ate lunch looking toward the open sea. Even Tatia seemed to enjoy herself. Kate felt free and untroubled for the first time in months.

     
"If I paid a passenger fee, would you take me on your next smuggling trip?" Mrs. Cole asked.

     
Caught off guard, Kate looked instinctively to Joe.

     
"Mrs. Cole," he said slowly, "the trip's too hard. The water's not calm like it is here. The boat pitches. Coming back the cabins are filled with booze. We all have to sleep on deck."

     
It was only a slight exaggeration. Kate held her breath. But Mrs. Cole's entire life, it seemed, had taught her to be docile in the face of negative answers.

     
"But you'll bring back my bottle of cognac?"

     
"We'll do that," Joe smiled.

     
"They're nice old biddies, ain't they?" Billy whispered later as he and Kate adjusted sails on the trip back. Kate laughed.

     
Joe offered Mrs. Cole a turn at the wheel. By the glow in her cheeks it was clearly the high point of the adventure.

     
"I cannot imagine why my father chose an office downtown when he could have been a sea captain like all his ancestors were," she said with a sigh when the need to rest finally claimed her.

     
"Times change," Joe said. "Most likely he saw that. Maybe he realized it was captains of industry rather than captains of clipper ships who were going to rule the world."

     
"Yes, perhaps. Still, I can't imagine anything could be more exciting than this. Not even riding the Flying Horses, I shouldn't think."

     
"Do you mean to say you've never ridden them?"

     
The surprise in Joe's voice echoed Kate's. Each knew the horses had been there when their parents were young. The thought that someone had missed the enchantment of traveling round and round on the prancing animals with their shiny brass poles was incomprehensible. Mrs. Cole looked wistful.

     
"I've never been to the park where they are at all. Mother said it wasn't proper. And then my husband... my husband said I was too old for that sort of nonsense."

     
"You're never too old to ride the Flying Horses!" Kate replied vehemently. She couldn't do many things — couldn't stop the world's injustices, couldn't give Mrs. Cole back all her lost years — but she could give her that small joy. "We'll go next Saturday, before it gets crowded the way it does later on."

     
Delight wrestled with reserve on Mrs. Cole's wrinkled face. Decorum, ingrained by a lifetime of other people's expectations, seemed to be winning.

     
"You'd come too, would you, Mr. Santayna?" she asked weakly.

     
"I could." He motioned Kate to take the wheel. "If Miss Hinshaw agrees."

     
He looked at Kate in question and the vigor of his gaze caught her as if she'd never seen it before. Like a blow to her chest came the realization how few times they had left to spend in each other's company. One more trip to Canada and they'd never see each other again.

     
"Kate? Are you all right?" He was holding one spoke of the wheel and she its opposite, his voice as close and familiar as her own breathing.

     
"Sorry. Yes. Shall we... all plan on Saturday, then?"

     
"You look pale. Sit down a minute."

     
His hand on her arm intensified the sudden wobbliness she was experiencing. She sat on a coil of rope. She shouldn't be feeling like this. Joe was only a friend. Anyway, she wasn't the sort of girl men gave a second glance.

     
"Tatia has smelling salts," Mrs. Cole offered.

     
Kate started to laugh.

***

     
"Sit here." Theo patted the edge of his bed. It was Sunday and he'd asked her and Aggie to stop by just before tea-time. But now he'd sent Aggie down the hall on an errand.

     
Kate sat beside him with growing concern. Theo looked feverish. What could he have to say that was so awful he sent Aggie away? She found his hand and held it tightly.

     
"Theo, what is it?"

     
He moistened his lips. "That fellow Joe... he seems like a decent sort. He's been awfully good, in fact. Stopping by to talk. But he's... he's a different class from you, Kate. You'd be throwing your life away."

     
The unhealthy sheen of her cousin's face restrained her anger, but her tongue refused to be silent.